A Cigarette to Life and God
by Alitolexlto
Summary: John Constantine. A man who creates luck, but brings bad luck to those he confronts. Even on his off days, life has a way of ripping him a new one, but it's not John that ends up suffering the most. But rather the one's who so much as see his face. ONESHOT. Based on my messily walk to the corner store one summer day. (minus obvious details)


**HELLBLAZER: "A CIGARETTE TO LIFE AND GOD"**

* * *

When a man is pushed on his last leg with no other piece of rope to hang on to, what exactly is he expected to do?

Really think about it for a second, mate; we pass these poor saps on the streets who ask for a small bit of coin and our automatic guess is that they'll spend it on a gulp o' ale and another fix to wonderland. And maybe that's the type of thinking' we should consider. Maybe all our efforts to be in God's good graces are a wasted effort if he ain't keepin' score.

So why bother do it anyway? Is it all a bloody waste of time that could be spend on more important things like how much chemicals are in makeup, or the current relationship of two giant wanks who're just gonna go fuck all with one another in a week.

People seem to carry so much of useless desires and have nothing' to do but try and treasure these desires as if they were the only thing worth living' for. Like life is just a phase and when it ends, it ends with no meaning' in it. What a bunch of pure bollocks I say. A human should be grateful something' in the universe decide to get their parents to shag it up and ripe you from ya mum's womb.

At least some got to see their mum if not for a minute.

But maybe all this ramblin' is what's depleting' me fags minute by minute as I stroll down this leave ridding' town of ol' Liverpool on a cold evening just when the sun sets and darkness is free to roam the streets once more.

And who better then to take it all in the arse then John fuckin' Constantine, eh?

The man who pisses off demons, and fucks with his chums all before a quick pint. Draped in a wrinkled ol' trenchcoat and messy blond hair. And a bloody mess to add on to that. But that's what happens when you make a deal with the most powerful demon to ever rip out of hell's cunthole, and make a soul-binding' deal with not just him but his brethren all to take a pick at your soul...to cure your lung cancer. Ain't life a fuckin' magic ride?

But as I walk down this breezy sidewalk, hands in me pocket and indulging in the last fag I had to exhale toxic smoke onto this already bacteria filled city, I think about my next move. My ace-in-the-hole to tell me it's all okay...but I know it's not. You'd have to be really bloody moronic to believe it's all gonna work out, 'cause it's not.

I might as well face the facts then; there's no escape now. When I die, I'm heading' only one direction from here. I might as well be doing' a favor and just drink meself into a bloody coma and call it a day. Course I don't feel like sittin' at a pub tonight. Naw, tonight I prefer the dirty corner store variety. Easier to buy, no bar keep hassling' you for a tab every refill.

I trudged me sorry legs a distance to the only corner store around, which lead me to a dried, dirty orifice of a shopping district with the rotting stench of motor oil and the sight of poverty's malice pollute the former glory and respect (or what little there was) the district had once retained. I stepped onto the piss-ridden lane of this deteriorating outdoor flea market with its shitter of a welcoming environment. The number of people might as well have been close to zero. The market hasn't had a decent business in years thanks to the more prominent outdoor mall just a few minutes away from here. Such cruel fate for the old to sit back and watch as a new generation tramples all over them and be a stepping stone in its place.

As I continued my little walk towards the store, I happen to look to my left to notice a faint and weak voice speak to me.

"Oh, prai be t' th' fathua, mate…he gotcha outta bed, Y'kno…Prai be t' Jezis Cris, th' lord n' savr of all humniti…died fer y' sins n—"

Jesus, this bloke was a piece a work. His face lined with signs of age and stress, while his eyes were as red as tomatoes. His hair, thinning with fifty shades of grey, had to get that joke in somehow, in it mixed with deep gashes that were an eatery for flies. His clothes were tattered fixings probably found in a dumpster judging by their stench, and his own shoes were brutally handled with holes. When he smiled, all I could see were rotting pebbles across his red gums.

"Uh…yeah, sure mate." I replied. Not even bothering to really pay attention to his words as I strolled on by. Even though it was clear I had no interest, there he was, still flapping his crusted lips on and on about God and his holy son over and over again. I'm not one to really believe in every single story written in an old book like most would, however I do know that the truth is always stranger than fiction. I'd seen the devil, see demons every time I look over me shoulder, I've even seen things that'd make even the most stubborn of non-believers quiver. But heaven? I've heard rumors about that. And I'm not talkin' about heaven per say. I'm speaking' about a heaven for us.

But that's just more ramblin' on about things I should leave to people's own personal opinions and all.

Me? All I need to have faith in is the six pack waiting to be gulped down.

I took a single step into the little store, being met with different forms of incense and an old stench of musk that poisoned my senses. Trust me, the sight of the dump wasn't no better. Dingy wallpaper, and piss-stained floors was the opposite of a welcoming environment. The cashier desk was made of see-through Plexiglas with different sets of toys for the douche bag youths fresh outta high school who think they'll learn new tricks in the sack.

A fuckin' God send that I don't need to stroll down further into the shitted rabbit's hole of the back to get me a good six ones when the freezer is on the far side of the cashier. Off I strolled to the freezer where the lil devils sat, all cold and waiting to be emptied and added to my lil labeorphilist. I whirled open the door to feel that first cold wave billow through me pores like a strong breath of fresh air.

'Course I let that euphoria simmer down and grab the real parcel to my happiness. Just hearing the glass bottles sing as they hit each other was a promise of a good night of drinking and a marathon of _Colombo _on the tube. Gotta do something with my weekends, right?

Ah, but not even on off-days do I ever get any moment's fuckin' rest from the old grind.

I get to the cashier's desk, ugly lookin' chap mind you. I know I'm no runway model myself but I'd say I'd shag me a cheap beauty or fellow with better odds then him. As I put my 6 pack on the counter, I took my time gazing at the back wall, searching for my favorite cancer sticks of the day while he rings it all up.

"'Ay, an I'll have me a pack of silk cuts as well." I added.

"Aright then." He nodded chipper as can be in such a shite four wall waste.

He turned to grab the fags…And that's when I noticed it…somethin' moving under his shirt from his back.

Bollocks, I hated that part.

I quickly ripped one of the bottles from its packaging to fashion myself a makeshift knife, but it's never that easy for me, now is it? Before I knew it I get a harsh thrust in me gut that sends me flyin' across the room straight into the darkness of the back of the store. My back was aching somethin' fierce and my groans only added to the pain. The scent of cheap shampoo and bloody shaving cream mixed well with the taste of my blood in my mouth. But low and behold, I knew this cream to well as the one I usually buy. Why remember this now? Fuck if I know. No special attachments, just somethin' better then smelling like an 'ol wet sack.

I wasted none too much time in seeing my attacker and instead tried a different approach for the cheeky fuck. I rummage in the darkness for a familiar ridged bottle, looking around as if I could. Helps at least. Found it quick enough and sprayed a smudge of it on the floor. Nothing too strong else he'll get suspicious. I take a few glances forward to see the towering cashier's eyes glow redder then a stop light. Thank god, he was one a them slow walkin' wankers from the movies, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten away with the shaving cream spray.

As he finally loomed over me, I could bet I was in for some revealing monologue while lookin' down on me.

"**I must say, I am most unimpressed…" **Fucking knew it. **"You've quite the reputation for being a master of your craft of conning out the most powerful of beings. However in the end you are nothing but a weak little pile of meat in a body sack. A mortifying discernment towards our great lord that he was entwined in your web as well."**

To test something, the heavy amount of blood off my chin and lip, and leaned over a bit to the right. "You lookin' to get a good tie up too, mate?" I said coyly. Get them rabid, I always say. "And your so-called lord wasn't too high n' mighty when I used those lousy conning skills to make 'em guzzle down a pint of holy water and ripped 'em a new one with expensive broken glass—"

The second I saw his arm raise, I pushed my body back up as a thunderstorm exploded to the right of me ear, startled me like a bloody child, but enough for me to get the picture. He was just as blind in this surrounding darkness as I was. Just what I was hopin' for.

"**Humph. Your tongue is as sharp as the blade of Stercorax. Perhaps you know of him. He happened to have been the dear brother of Negal. I am aware that name registers to your memory. Speaking of Nergal, I also recall a young girl named Astra who was ripped from the human realm—"**

Aw yes, the 'ol guilt trip to catch me off my game as usual. Hurts like a fuckin' punch to the chest, but not enough to keep me knocked down at least. While he kept talking on and on, I slowly crept off the ground in the complete darkness, puttin' the shaving bottle down and taking hold of the bottle I planned to make a weapon out of. I still got me some use for it.

I was able to get to my feet and tread slowly to the right of 'em. Soddin' darkness didn't do much for me, but I was able to manage. Getting into position for my big counterattack, there in came his big reveal in his monologue.

"—**in a matter he sees fit. But enough about her damnation, let us speak on how I have discovered your location and ripped myself into this pitiful human's body. You see, I have excursioned small mites to follow your every move, and track the items you have applied to yourself. The most prominent being your products from hair wash to shaving cream."**

And there we have it; the big reveal. Took the sodden cunt long enough.

"**But I have spoken quite enough…"**

Understatement of the fuckin' century.

"…**and now I will do what my lord had failed to accomplish. My brethren will seethe ****with**** Jealousy once they have been told that I have single-handedly killed and taken the soul of THE John Constantine for myself! Freight not, John. You will finally be reunited with all who you have wronged in the past, all who you have caused the death of, all who only had their life and God to cling to, and ended up losing both because of you!"**

His fist launched right into the wall like a soddin' fucktard and from the sound of it, made quite the crater in the wall. Hard to tell in all that dark. But what was easy to hear was the sound of my bottle shattering across his head and the feeling of the bottle hitting against, what felt like, his eye socket.

In those seconds I felt such a burst of adrenaline and fury that I felt I could take this bastard on mano-e-mano as they say. But I knew that was just bullshit welling up inside me.

With all this ecstasy building up in me loins, I nearly drowned out the blood-curtling shrieking of my otherwise bleeding chum. He had ran out of the darkness and into the illuminated side of the store, his face drenched in blood as he ran hollering some gibberish in his origin language. Course, I could care less what he's screamin' about and took the shot to break him a little more. Y'know, just to make sure.

But I kept my self-control intact.

"TAKE THIS, YA FUCKIN' WANKER!-!"

Okay, so kickin' 'em in the bollocks wasn't exactly self-control, but its better then what I _could've _done.

He clutched his sacks with fever while one black stained claw grasped the blood pouring out his eye like a faucet. He shrieked something I couldn't for the bloody life of me understand, but I did hear me name in all of it so that must've meant he was either cursing my name, or sayin' some Christian prayer. Get it? Constantine? Dude who killed people and made Christianity big? Huh? Is this thing on?

"**Gah! Damn you…! Damn you John Constantine…! I-I hope…Our Lord…rips your very skin…off your pathetic flesh…" **He groaned agonizingly. **"…and…let you boil…in the hottest of fiery pits…as your infectious cock…is ovulated by sharpest of teeth…of a thousand hellbound succubus…!"**

"Blimey, I hope they swallow." I smirked cheekily.

Finally the plonker was about to say its final words before it finally drops to the ground slowly to its knees. I guess I hit 'em a little too hard for his own good for him to be goin' down from a little thing like a gouged out eye and a kick to the nads. Must've been a weak lil git who talked big but was nothin' but shite in the end.

"**Ha…! You laugh now…but be warned John Constantine…! The more you involve others into your life…the more they will be ripped from your grasp…all will meet their fate just as Astra has…Do you want to know how she screams…? She screams…just like your mother...when she died giving birth to you!"**

There. Right there. That was the fuckin' mark he shouldn't have hit. I may seem calm about it now, but…

"Oh you FUCKING GOB SHITE!"

I dropped the remains of the bottle, grabbed a patch of his black cropped hair, and dragged his weakened body across the damn ground with all the strength I could muster at the time. Back towards the cashier, I stood over the fucktard, breathing heavy and all that pumping adrenaline all drained out in the form of my kick to his balls and refilled with the bitter sensation of fuming anger aimed for this twonk who thought he could push me buttons and get away with it right away.

I look around feverishly for something hard and dense to bash the bastard's brains in. Seems luck has the right ideas for me in the form of a brand new metal hammer just waitin' to be put to some use. I grasped it tightly within my clutches, feeling every muscle of anger take hold of me and play puppeteer to my own hand.

I loomed over the bastard, seeing his heavy breathing catching a hitch every now and then, but I could see the bitter hatred breath fire in his scathed eye towards his killer standing above him. And to add to such insult, the one who does him in was the one who_ he_ as supposed to do in.

He then started chuckling. **"Kill me if you wish…but keep this in mind…The second I die, my followers will seek vengeance upon you…they will…gah…they will synchronize with my wave lengths upon death…and act as homing missiles towards you…they will find you…through your blood…though they will die once they kill…their sacrifices will not be in vain…for the arrogant…yet valuable John Constantine…will be in our lord's possession…!"**

"Oh really? Well get this, ya bloody fucking nutter…" I says to 'em while lighting up a well needed fag. "…Talk all the shite you want, but that ain't gonna change a fucking thing. I'm gonna get Astra from the deepest of Hell's arsehole, and then I'm gonna rip Nergal a new one with my own bloody hands. You? You're just a stepping stone to that day. Ain't even gonna make the 5'o clock demon newspapers, mate. So do me a favor would ya…" I rose the hammer the highest my hands could take it. "…tell Luci if he wants to fuck with John Constantine, HE BETTER BRING A WHOLE GODDAMN ARMY!"

With that claim, I release it all on to his fleshy skull. I release all my stress, pain, grief, and regret, ALL of it in to each and every axe I throw at him. And the cunt is still laughing, still humiliating me as his breaths for the dear life he tried to keep held on. I couldn't give a single fuck what he meant by his boys comin' around to finish the job he couldn't. Fuck all, I thought. The blood splattering across my ugly mug as I break through flesh, through bones, through the brain. I just kept bashing, and bashing, until all I was bashing in was a great big pile of fleshy chunks on the floor. But after a few seconds, I finally cut away the strings of the puppeteer of rage and regain my moral conscious…or what I've had left of it all these years.

I breathe hard. Don't know if it's my own breathing or me bloody anger doin' it for me.

I dropped the hammer and rid my face of the bastard's blood with a wet cloth. I wasted no time in just getting the remaining bottles of me six pack and leave it at that. But before I left, I took one more eye at 'ol faceless down there. A whole goddamn army, I told 'em. Jesus, John you're not bloody superman. You're just some halfwit who gets lucky. Nothin' more nothin' less.

But there was one thing that he said that's still wrapped in the foil of me head. This poor sap was willin' to give it all up, and off himself…all for his so-called lord. It's amazing what someone, human or otherwise, would do in the name of their gods. We practice the words from some old book and hope that'll give us that special spot in the afterlife, only to end up shitting all those pretty words out our asses and just fuck all with life. And so we look for somethin' else then what we call make-believe, somethin' more, somethin' scientific or astronomical...But we only end up findin' things out our reach, or theories that will most likely never have a clear answer.

Guess that's just the case, isn't it? All a mate's got in this world is life and whatever they wanna believe…or not. Doesn't matter to me. I seen me own truths first hand. Fuck all who tell me otherwise.

Christ, I need these drinks somethin' fierce.

I stepped over the carcass bellow me feet and continued out the piss-poor store for some of that fresh, sun filled air I was hopin' to be greeted with..._Ah, hello John Constantine!_ Hello rain! _How are you today? _Oh Y'know. Just killed a demon, let out me rage, 'bout to be mulled to death by minions. _That sounds horrible! Good luck, John Constantine! _Thank you downpour of rain...ya fuckin' tosser.

"John!"

Through the rain, I could've sworn I had been seein' things again. But at least I wasn't on anythin' this time. Waiting for me in the front was me oldest chum, sitting in his yellow taxi with the motor still running. Dunno if Chas and I have some sort of mental connection, or someone upstairs is tryin' to cut me some slack. I could tell by his expression he was none too thrilled to see my shirt and coat covered in blood.

I gave him the hand to tell 'em to hold still before turnin' a heel to the side of the walkway. Still had one more thing to take care of.

There on the corner, I see that disheveled homeless beggar, still prattlin' on about the good word over n' over. I honestly thought the ol' chap was barkin' mad out his fuckin' head.

Poor bastard. He had nothin' left to work for, no place to start, no place to call home anymore. Whether it was from his own misguided attempts at trying to live some perfect life or his mistakes of throwing everything away by an unfortunate realization of life kickin' his arse to the ground. I have my own miserable life to worry about. Don't need another burdens to bare on me shoulders, thank you very much...but it's never an easy street walk for 'ol Johnny Constantine.

I pressed my thumb across my lip and wiped the dried blood off. I then reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the bill I was fixin' to use for the pints but hey, that's life isn't it? Or _my _life actually. I spread my DNA on the crumpled up bill and held it in hand as I strolled over to the homeless gent.

"Ah! Y' com bak to he da gud news?"

Christ, that mouth was a wreck. And his breath was that of a sewer. Plus, he didn't even ask about the blood on my clothes. Nevertheless I handed him the bill and said, "Little penny for your troubles, mate. You'll need it."

Despite his unsightly appearance and untidy demeanor…he smiled joyously. A smile that put a warm feelin' in me heart the second his cheeks rose. I could tell by the way he smiled it was the first pint of money he had received today. He was grateful. Grateful someone cared enough to give what little a pig could spit for him…but I saw somethin' else behind that crippling smile of his…sadness…Despair…bitter loneliness…the feeling that there was no more joy left in the world then what he had right now…no money enough to give him happiness, no peace to allow him content, no love to make him feel whole…all he had left was the breath of life…and his belief.

All he had was life and God.

"Bless yu! Bless ya, sr! Oh Blss ya! Yus n' angl! N' angl!"

An Angel, he said. I couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the sheer irony of that sentence at that moment. Or maybe it was contradiction.

Without saying anything, or even bothering to hear the rest of his thanks, I quickly walked away, turned the corner, and hurried through the rain and into the opened back door of Chas's car.

"Drive. Now." I ordered quickly as I closed the door.

"What's got you in a hurry, John?-!" Chas exclaimed me as he began to drive off into the streets. "And what's with all the blood on ya shirt there?-! You dun look like you commited a crime or somethin'…! Y-You didn't…kill anyone did ya?"

"Far worse Chas…far worse."

Chas was good at readin' atmosphere. Probably a blessing from hangin' with me for so long. He knew I didn't wanna talk about it. All he did was sigh.

And of course I didn't say nothin' of it to him. I'd only be reminded not of the shite that attacked me in the store…but that buggered homeless chap. I couldn't even stay and hear his thank yous…

how could I? I'm the one who killed him.

When I put my blood on that bill, it had my sent. My tainted blood was now in his hands...And if what that demon said was true, then his demon minions would track me from my own blood…the bill was the closest thing, while I got away safely. Those pricks can only kill once, then they'll go back to the pit…and now that poor old bastard would be goin' with them.

Or so they think.

Luckily I muttered a small enchantment while I put me own blood on the bill. A powerful demon warding charm. Guaranteed to last for a good 70 years. It's better than nothing, I suppose. He'll get a good 70 years off free. enough sanctuary to be content till they get to the rippin' and sheadin'. Plenty of time till I release him, and all the trapped souls down there because of me.

Still, as the cab finally drove off onto the main road,. I lit my last cigarette in remembrance. To remember the events, to remember the old tramp, to remember these words.

A cigarette in remembrance for the man who only had life and God…and one of them he won't be seeing for a long, long time.


End file.
